


The Death of Me

by fanfics_await_you



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 20:45:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16166681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfics_await_you/pseuds/fanfics_await_you
Summary: You and Steve are left to take down a mind-control scientist who is slowly enslaving the city. You defeat him but the price is higher than you could have ever imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I fucking love dramatic irony. it just makes angst that extra level of painful. If Steve and Y/N weren’t head-over-heels dumbasses, this shit wouldn’t be happening. also, i seem to have a habit of abusing steve rogers??? which makes no sense because i just want my boy to have a happy ending??? yeah, definitely going to have to write him something nice soon
> 
> Prompt: Angsty Romantic Cliches I’m a Slut For by @quirk-y (tumblr) (I don't know how to link it)

“I don’t think you should do this Steve. You need to get properly checked out before you go back into the fiel-“

“Y/N, I have to come! What’s the alternative? Leaving you by yourself to deal with this guy?!? No way! We’re a team. You know the rule, never leave your partner behind,” his smile is genuine but strained; his head is obviously still causing him trouble.

None of this does anything to comfort you, which Steve evidently picks up on as the smile drops almost instantly. He puts a hand on your arm, sending sparks of warmth coursing up your skin. You look away from him, partly to convey that you’re not convinced and partly to hide the blush creeping up your neck.

“I’m not saying that going in alone is the smartest plan, but we have no idea what that blast did to you! You’re still in pain- don’t try and lie to me, I know you too well for that… Here, let me do that. You’re going to end up looking like a mummy if you keep going like that,” laughter finds its way into your speech.

Steve, trying to prove that he was alright, was attempting to bandage the chemical burn that your current mission had left on his forehead in your last encounter. You were being honest about his appearance; layers of inexpertly placed gauzes and dressings were threatening to swallow the left side of his face.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” an uninvited smile sneaks onto your face, “I’m going to get rid of all this and start again.”

Steve doesn’t say anything but just leans forward and gives you a warm smile.

_He’s going to be the death of me, I swear, if he keeps looking at me like that._

You gently remove the dressings from his skin and look at the mark that, despite his super-soldier healing, remains streaked with lines of silver like a human circuitboard. The burn does distress you. The scans that Friday presentedwere inconclusive, the information she can give is neither positive nor negative. This only further troubles you; with the remains of the Avengers scattered to the four winds, a little certainty would be nice. You jolt out of your thoughts as Steve’s soft fingers find your free hand.

“Y/N. I’m going to be fine. I  _promise_  that I’ll go see a doctor after this is all finished, but first we need to deal with this asshole before he hurts anyone else.” His tone is insistent and kind.

Realising that this really wasn’t a battle that you were going to win, you just huff and start to dress the mark. Steve closes his eyes and sits back in the chair with the ghost of a grin.

“Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

_I swear to God, the absolute death of me._

* * *

 

“Y/N, can you  _please_  stop going places I can’t follow?!? Not everyone can teleport!!!” His hair is plastered with brick dust from the last wall he had demolished to keep pace with you.

“Sorry, should I have just stayed back with the zombies?!?!” The stress you feel is evident in your tone.

Close on your tail, a swarm of what you could only assume to be mind-controlled civilians swiftly followed. They plainly have no training but are fearless, pay no mind to anything less that a mortal wound and are armed with guns that seem capable of melting steel. You hope to God that you’re on the right track because both of you are starting to fatigue and neither of your suits will be able to survive much more damage.

—

Finally, you burst into a cavernous chamber filled with massive computers; arcs of artificial lightning dances across the ceiling.

“Well, I think we’re in the right place,” Steve gives you a side-eye and grin like you’re sharing an inside joke, not about to fight for your lives.

_God, I love him so much._

You don’t know if it’s the absurdity of hiscomment **,**  the adrenaline, the fear, the heat of the moment, or the sinking feeling that you weren’t going to survive this but something in you decides  _enough_. Before he has a chance to catch his breath, you grab Steve by the front of his uniform and drag him behind a huge discarded scrap of metal.

The look in his eyes is unsure, hopeful, “Y/N, what are you doin-“

You cut him off by pushing him against the wall and taking his face in your hands.

It all comes out in a stumbling, stammering rush, “I don’t really know how to say this, Steve, but I have a  _really, really_  bad feeling about this mission and I- I just need to tell you! I need you to know! I love you, Steve. I’ve loved you for a long time but I’ve been afraid and I guess I’m not afraid anymore? Actually, that’s not true, I’m still very much af-“

He returns the favour by interrupting you with a hard, desperate kiss. You can taste the sweat and dirt of battle on him but it only makes you want him more. One hand on your waist, one on your neck, Steve pulls you flush against him. With your hands tangled in his hair, the feel of him touching you like this is intoxicating and like vertigo all at once. You know you need to let go but everything about him is addictive. The kiss is frantic and aching in a way that reminds you of a final goodbye.

_Oh Christ, don’t think that._

Before you can stop yourself, you feel hot tears begin to trickle down your cheeks. You step back - in fear, humiliation, or self-loathing, you’re not sure. Before you can wipe away the offending drops, Steve’s hands find your face again. You don’t want to look at him but as his thumbs tenderly brush across your cheeks, you just can’t help it. To your surprise and dismay, Steve’s eyes are also full of tears yet to fall.

_So he feels it too then._

“This is not the end, Y/N.” His gaze is unwavering and steady despite, well everything that’s happening. “This is not where we end up, alright?”

You respond with a last hungry, despairing kiss that lingers on your lips long after you part.

With that, exactly like a last adieu, you step away from each other and turn to face the mission at hand.

* * *

With blood pouring from cuts all over you and a chemical burn starting to form on your arm, it’s fair to say that you aren’t at your best. The glances you spare for Steve indicate he’s not much better off. However, despite  _everything_ , you are winning. The disfigured scientist’s shots are slowing and becoming increasingly more erratic. With a final throw of Steve’s shield, the man lets out a shriek as the force drives him into the concrete wall behind him. There’s a sickening crack that makes you think that he won’t be getting up from where he’s fallen. The taste of triumph bitter and metallic in your mouth, you walk towards the crumpled man. He’s still breathing but the gasps are wheezing and there’s a rattle deep in his throat. This brings you no joy but somewhere deep in your consciousness, you are glad that this is over and that you’ve both survived.

“Lay down your weapon. It’s over,” Steve’s voice is iron, more soldier than man.

The man looks up at you slowly with a bloodied, pained smile; something in your stomach instantly drops.

“I knew I could never beat you.” The words are raspy and muffled by the blood in his mouth. “However, I thought I could give you a parting gift, something you will always remember me by.”

Before either you or Steve can react, the man hits the device on his wrist. It starts to glow, with the word ‘kill’ and a countdown timer beginning to flash across the screen in psychedelic colours.

“It’s a bomb!” You grab Steve’s wrist and begin to run.

You almost pull your arm out of its socket from whiplash when he doesn’t budge an inch. You turn back and find Steve still staring at the scientist, his perfect face smooth and cold like marble. His eyes - always so full of mirth, nostalgia, grief,  _something_  - are empty. The seed of doubt in your stomach has taken root and is beginning to invade your lungs.

_Maybe it isn’t a bomb._

“Steve?” Your desperation is as clear as day.

Nothing; not a twitch of muscle or any indication that he can hear you.

“Steve, you’re scaring me.  _Please_ , we need to g-“

You’re cut off by a backhand that sends you flying. Hitting the floor hard, you feel something in your ribs give. Scrambling to regain your feet, you can only look on in horror to see Steve advancing with nothing but blank reflection in his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

You’ve never properly fought Steve; he’d always pulled his punches, slowed his reflexes, and given you a fighting chance. The fights had always been games with undertones of humour and flirting. You had always enjoyed sparring him.

This is, well, hell on earth.

Even with force-fields to take the brunt of the impact, his hits land with brutal force and accuracy. Steve has abandoned his shield and is attacking you with just his bare hands. Even with him slowly beating the life out of you, you can’t find it in yourself to properly fight back. For one, it’s taking all your focusto keephis assault at bay. Secondly, it doesn’t seem like there’s a real point because he’s Captain America, possibly the best soldier that the last two centuries have seen; you know that if you can’t break the trance that this is a fight he will win. And finally, possibly most importantly, you love him too much.

“Steve,  ** _stop_**! You can fight this!” You try to break his reverie between blows. “You are the strongest person I know, you can do this!  _Please_!”

You continue to beg but the words all fall on merciless ears.

—

You’re starting to slip up; your shields are becoming weaker with every hit as your energy and strength drains. You’ve already fought your way into the facility through a sea of enemies, and now you’ve barely got anything left. A hook slips through your guard and lands in your ribs. Sharp cracks followed by blinding, blooming painthatflashes up your left side saps whatever power you had left. Your force-fields drop and the onslaught truly begins. With what you have left, you place a small shield over your head in hopes of stopping any killing blows. Unfortunately, this doesn’t do much to stop him. Steve aims for your ribs, battering you until the world is only made of razor-sharp pain and dancing lights across your vision. You can feel the force-field slipping, so you do the only thing that there’s left to do.

“I love you, Steve Rogers. More than you can know.”

The shield slips and you see him wind up for the punch. Despite everything, you work to memorise the details of his face. Despite everything, you still love him so much that it aches. Despite everything, you wish you could stay because  _God damn_ you want to kiss him one more time. Just before his fist lands, you hear an electronic beep go off like the end of a timer. The world goes cold and black before you can consider what it means.

* * *

Steve’s world is blurry and muffled like everything is made of frosted glass. He can’t remember where he is or how he got here and the only thing in is his whole headspace is Y/N; how warm she felt pressed against him, how she cradled his face like something fragile, how the hunger on her tongue drove him insane, and how much he wants to touch her again. Suddenly, his mind starts to clear. He’s in the facility, a shrill beep is filling the air, and something warm and thick is coating his knuckles. As soon as the world comes back into focus, he sees that Y/N is in a bloodied pile before him. Something in him instantly cracks.

_She’s dead._

He wants to kill himself for even letting the thought cross his mind but his eyes can’t escape the truth. He leans forward to pick Y/N up, cradle her, check for a pulse, but before he can Steve sees his hands. His knuckles are covered in blood, though not his own. His palms are mostly clean so it can’t have come from helping her. He had never got close enough to the scientist to hit with anything but his shield. But how the-

 _The device that wasn’t a bomb._   _The chemical burn that wasn’t a burn._

No. It couldn-

**No.**

_No no no no no no no no-_

He picks Y/N up as gently as he can manage. She’s breathing (just) but there’s a choked, fluid sound to it that suggests her lungs are punctured. She’s unconscious and her pulse is soft enough to be missed. Her skin is becoming colder to the touch with every heartbeat that drains her life onto the floor. Y/N is dying, her foot further across the threshold towards gone than still here. And worst of all…

_I did this to her. I killed her with my own hands._

The true realisation and atrocity of the moment cascades over him like a breaking swell, repeatedly and with devastating consequences.

“Y/N, please wake up. I’m so sorry, please.” Steve’s words are incessant, pleading, broken.

He says it over and over again like a skipping record until sobs swallow his words. He cradles Y/N tightly against his chest and buries his face into her shoulder. A howl full of his anguish, his guilt, his loss rips out of this throat. Steve tenderly lowers her until she rests on his knees, her face still and calm beneath the blossoming black bruise. One hand to steady her, he places a palm against her cold cheek, covering the mark even if just for a minute. Tears still steadily course down his skin, leaving trails through the dirt and blood.

“Y/N, I’m begging you, don’t go where I can’t follow. Please, I love you. Please, just- just  _stay._ ”

“Please Y/N, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Y/N stays quiet, unstirring, and Steve’s fingers trail down to her neck. It’s at this moment that something which had survived the brutality of war, the loss of everyone he loved, and the cruelty of time quietly dies within him.

There’s no more pulse.


End file.
